


Always and Forevermore

by rubblerousing



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubblerousing/pseuds/rubblerousing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir still craves the respect and position he used to have, before Spartacus and the rebels came to free him. He feels many of the rebels look down on him because they believe he is dependent upon Agron, so he devises a scheme to make people think he and Agron are quarreling, to prove he can fend for himself. The plan only serves to confuse them both, and they both wonder at times if the fight isn't a joke, but real. Meanwhile, Nasir and Agron are separated after parting on uncomfortable terms, and several mental breakdowns ensue when each thinks the other might be dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"The only reason you yet live is because I am still debating whether or not to torture you before I kill you," Agron said, quietly as beyond the walls everyone slept. He pressed the edge of his sword harder against the man's neck.

"Please, Agron," the Gaul choked out, "I did not see you here. I thought..." he paused to cough, but could not catch enough breath to do so, and instead made a rasping noise. "I thought perhaps you were on guard."

"That you were unaware of my presence I have surmised," Agron replied. "But let us go back to my original thought, of torture. It depends upon your answer to the following question. What were you doing?"

Agron had returned from a late night drink of water to find the Gaul creeping up toward a sleeping Nasir with a dagger in his hand. Agron did not even know his name. A new recruit of men, Crixus' men, had arrived only days before and as yet Agron had not taken the time to get to know them, or even to speak to them. He was trying, always trying, to be kinder and more accepting of everyone fighting the cause he fought for. But he couldn't help suspecting they had a hidden agenda. Finding one about to attack Nasir did not help the matter.

"Please, Agron," the man repeated. Apparently he had taken the time to learn Agron's name. "I wanted to speak to the boy only."

Agron's eyes flicked up to Nasir, who shifted in his sleep but did not wake.

A woman’s voice on the other side of Agron's bedroom wall called out something in a foreign tongue, something Agron did not understand, and soon after Crixus stood in the doorway.

"Agron," Crixus sighed in exhaustion, partially due to the fact he was rudely awoken in the middle of the night, and partially because Agron was acting stupidly, again. "What are you doing?"

"Killing a Gaul," Agron said, "what are you doing?"

Crixus sighed and disappeared. A moment later he returned with Spartacus. By this time people had begun to light candles and the room brightened. Heads were poking into the doorway to figure out what was happening. And Nasir was awake, frowning with half lidded eyes at the scene unfolding six feet from his bed.

"Agron," Spartacus began, no more pleased than Crixus, "allow me to remind you it is counter productive to kill the men we added to our numbers only two days ago."

"He meant to kill Nasir," Agron explained shortly. He would rather not explain at all. He would like to take care of the matter himself. Crixus running off to tattle on him made him feel particularly demeaned, and even more aggravated.

"He did?" Nasir spoke up, having really no idea what was happening.

"What did you actually see?" Spartacus asked Agron, ever the calm mediator.

"He crept toward Nasir in the dark with a dagger in his hand," Agron said flatly. "What else would you have me do?"

"I was not going to kill him," the Gaul choked out. Agron would not release him, or move his sword.

"Well, you were not going to steal from him, because none of us own a thing of worth."

"I was just passing by," he pleaded. "I am unaccustomed to this large house. I went into the wrong room. I apologize."

"He lies," Agron said.

"And if he does not, we should kill each of our brothers who makes a simple mistake and causes no harm?" Crixus asked.

Agron bit his tongue to keep from making a remark about brothers and Gauls.

"And what if he had crept toward you?" he said instead, looking at Spartacus. "At least let us bind him up and put him under watch until he confesses or comes up with a better story."

"No," Crixus’ voice was firm. "The last thing we need is our numbers divided so, and no one can be spared to watch over a prisoner.” He turned to Spartacus. “Agron is simply angry that my people have come to join us after his were so generally underwhelming."

Agron was about to fight back, or find a way to punch Crixus from four yards away while he held down the Gaul with his sword, but Spartacus quickly stepped between them. "Agron, let him go.” Agron made a face but pulled his sword back and the man scrambled up to his feet. "Crixus, keep an eye on your men and be sure they do not wander by Agron's room in the night."

"Armed with daggers," Agron added.

"And you," Spartacus warned the Gaul, "always assume Agron is watching."

With that the crowd separated, Agron and Crixus glaring at one another, until Agron was alone again with Nasir. Nasir had a peculiar look on his face, and appeared flushed. He frowned and stared at a blank point on the stone floor. When Agron crawled into bed next to him he looked shaken, like he had forgotten Agron was there.

Agron pulled him close. Outside their door the candles went out one by one, as people took to their beds again. "What's wrong? And don't say nothing."

"Nothing," Nasir said, and smiled.

"Don't worry about him. He won't get a second chance."

"I'm not worried about him."

"You're tired," Agron said, running his fingers across the darkened skin beneath one of Nasir's eyes. He didn't want to push him, he knew Nasir would not admit to being frightened. "I promise no one will touch you."

It took him a moment, but finally Nasir smiled again. "No one?"

"Except for me of course, but I don't count, as I have not a malicious bone in my body." he paused. "Against you, anyway."

Nasir sighed, trying to exhale what worried him, and kissed Agron.

"Do not distract me," Agron mumbled against Nasir's lips. "I am keeping watch and you are resting your tired eyes." he pulled back from Nasir and gave him a stern look. "You have not slept enough of late."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes."

Nasir pressed his lips together, and put up no fight. He lay down, with his back to Agron. His smile was gone again.

In the light of day no one could keep from gossiping about what had happened in the night, or keep themselves from stealing glances at Agron and the Gaul. It seemed the fact that the event had revolved solely around Nasir had been entirely forgotten. People just waited for a fight. Nothing exciting had happened in days. They were bored, and they wished for blood, but gossip would do.

Nasir found no entertainment in the questions or the whispers behind his back. Agron was loudly trying to convince everyone he was right and the Gaul was not to be trusted. Nasir tried to escape unnoticed to get a bite to eat. At least three people on the way there and two on the way back asked where Agron was, as though Nasir really had no purpose other than to deliver Agron to people. He was fuming before he finally found a somewhat abandoned spot to eat his food.

He was not angry with Agron. He did not believe Agron was at all responsible for what really troubled him. What really troubled him was everyone else. No one thought of him as a singularly important individual, only the thing usually standing next to Agron. Naevia was his only friend there still alive, except for Agron, and Naevia had been virtually absent since the last victory. She was busy with Crixus, of course. Nasir chewed on his food and stared at nothing again. Of course.

“Don’t you look exceedingly dejected?” came Agron’s voice, and his body followed, and sat next to Nasir.

Nasir looked at him. For a moment he could forget why he was so aggravated. He tried to turn off his peripheral vision and just pretend he was somewhere, alone, with Agron. “I don’t feel like talking with others.”

Agron didn’t say anything. After an abnormally long time, Nasir laughed and pushed him on the shoulder. “I don’t mean I don’t feel like talking to you.”

“Then talk to me,” Agron said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Nasir sighed. “I have an idea, and you’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t like most things anyway,” Agron replied.

“Well,” Nasir began, refusing to make eye contact with Agron while he spoke, “what if we … attempted… to...” he paused. He picked at the food he’d been eating and pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes with the back of his hand. Little movements that would make what he was trying to say sound less absolute.

“I like it so far,” Agron said.

Nasir smiled a sad smile. “It’s nothing too adventurous. I just think we should attempt to be more discreet.”

Agron stared at him. “Attempt to be more discreet,” he repeated.

“The people here do not take me seriously,” Nasir tried to explain.

“Yes, they do,” Agron said.

Nasir ignored him. “It’s not your fault. I need to assert myself more. Some of the people here remember me from the past, from before you and Spartacus came. I was respected then, by some of them. For the wrong reasons, I was, but still they did respect me. Now everyone sees me as weak. I can see that they do. And I know it’s because I am too open with you. I am too happy with you.”

“So you want to be unhappy with me? Are you casting me aside in return for others’ good opinions?” Agron almost yelled.

“No, I am not,” Nasir yelled back, standing his ground. “I do not want a thing about us to change, but I do not want the others fucking prying into our private matters. I do not want to be seen as your little fucking boy.”

Agron had turned red in anger, and it took him a moment to reply. “You are not. No one thinks so.”

Nasir could see Agron hardly believed it himself. He said nothing.

“I refuse to participate in this,” Agron shook his head. “I refuse to pretend that I...” he lowered his voice to almost a whisper, “that I am not in love with you.”

With that, Nasir felt a wave of guilt, and could say nothing in return. He should not be treating the only person on his side so unfairly. But he was still unhappy. He did not know how to explain it.

“Why should I change for the sake of others? Why should I be prohibited to act the way I feel?” Agron went on, while Nasir was speechless. “Is that not what we fight for every day? I will not be a slave to the Romans, I will not let you be a slave to anyone, and I will not have either of us fall slave to the petty opinions of others.”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Nasir finally spit out. “Almost everyone here is mortally afraid of you. Four days ago I killed dozens of Romans and still I am looked down upon.”

“You almost bested Spartacus because he did not suspect you. Maybe you should use it to your advantage,” Agron said.

“I feel I have proven myself but none of the others take notice. Last night a new man tried to kill me in my sleep because he thinks me weak. You had to save me. I have never...” Nasir shook his head. “I love you, but I will not be forced to rely on you. This place exists entirely on rank and respect, and I will not be at the bottom any longer. I do not cast you aside, or push you away, but I need your help. I need you to take a step away from me, only when the others are watching. I do not want them to fear me, I only want them to stop thinking of me as young and helpless.”

Agron sighed. “What would you have me do?”

“You cannot help me with anything, anymore.”

“If someone is coming after you with a blade and you don’t know it, I will not have you die.”

“If it is at all possible for me to handle it, let me handle it,” Nasir clarified. “And I will start sleeping in the common room with the others again. I cannot sleep in your bedroom anymore.”

Agron made a disbelieving, startled noise.

“Not that I don’t want to, but I want people to think we have separated, just for a little while. I will probably sneak in to your room. A lot,” Nasir said, trying to cheer him up.

“I am only going along with this for a day or two,” Agron grumbled.

“Let’s start with two and then reconvene.”

“And what should I say when everyone asks why we are no longer speaking?” Agron asked.

“Tell them we had a quarrel and you don’t want to discuss the details,” Nasir answered.

“And what will you tell Naevia when she gets all teary eyed and says if you were really her friend, you would tell her the truth?”

Nasir laughed. “I don’t know. I’ll come up with something at the time.”

“Fine, but don’t say anything bad about me,” Agron warned.

“I would never say anything bad about you.”

“You know if I ever hear anyone say anything about you except that you are perfect I would have their head,” Agron said.

Nasir smiled, and could not bring himself to look in Agron’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Agron stood up. Then, with a loud voice, he called, “You fucking... fuck.” And he walked away.

A couple of people looked over, but no one said anything. Nasir had to bite his tongue so he would not smile.

The day passed slowly, and the boredom that had stricken the camp finally came over Nasir, now that he did not have Agron to keep him entertained. Spartacus had rightly allowed them a few days after the last battle to recuperate, reassess future plans, and settle into the house as much as they could, with the threat of having to run away at any moment constantly hanging over their heads. They knew they could not stay long, especially being so close to where they had just come from, but the house provided them a luxury few, if any, of them had ever experienced in all their lives. Agron did as Nasir had asked, and stayed far away from him for the rest of the day, though Nasir often found him looking at him from across a room. Sometimes he was kind of glaring, and sometimes he was simply looking, and Nasir couldn’t tell if he was pretending or not.

Nasir had infiltrated himself into a group of about eight people, some of them new and some old. At first they had acted a little uncomfortable that Nasir, who had never paid them any attention before, suddenly began sitting with them and participating in all of their conversations, but after an hour or so they had gotten used to him. And by that time, Nasir had run out of things to say and was sure he had gotten nowhere in garnering their respect. Words did not go far. He needed to fight again, but there was no one to fight.

At dusk everyone began their evening meal, sharing portions of the day’s hunt. Nasir sat with his new friends, whom he knew could care less if he stayed or left. He stole a glance at Agron and Spartacus, who sat apart, with Crixus and Naevia and generally everyone who were the major players in their camp. He could be sitting with them now, but only as Agron’s guest, to be cast aside if or when Agron grew tired of him. Naevia had grown into her own, and commanded respect in a way Nasir craved after she sought revenge and killed Ashur before the rest. Well, Nasir told himself, it was only a matter of time before he would have his moment. In the meantime, he would have to keep avoiding Agron.

It was then that he noticed Agron was stomping toward him, anger in his eyes. Nasir’s new friends fell silent when Agron approached, looming over them, refusing to sit. Nasir stood to look him in the eyes.

“You have a lot of nerve, showing yourself before me...” Agron paused, and then, as though the name just occurred to him, snarled, “Syrian.” And in an instant, Agron cracked the smallest, most indiscreet smile he possibly could, with only half of his mouth. Only Nasir saw it, and Nasir knew Agron was not truly mad at him.

This gave Nasir the courage to fight back. “I have every right to be here. I will show myself wherever I please. Do you have a problem with that?”

Agron nodded. “Yes, I do have a problem with that.” He looked to the left, and saw that everyone within earshot had quieted to listen to the argument. “You little piece of shit,” Agron added.

“You’re the piece of shit,” Nasir retorted. “In fact, you’re a …”

Agron waited, but Nasir couldn’t come up with a good name. “I’m a what?” Agron prodded.

And then it happened. Without thinking, Nasir punched Agron, straight into the mouth, and hard. By the time Nasir’s brain seemed to turn on again, he realized his right hand hurt, and he was staring at a bewildered Agron, feeling ten times more bewildered than Agron looked. A line of blood trickled from Agron’s bottom lip down his chin. It pooled into a drop at the tip and dripped to the ground before Nasir remembered to breathe, and for a moment he feared Agron would punch him back. Nasir had a healthy amount of self confidence, but Agron would probably win that fight.

By that point, everyone in the camp had fallen silent and stared at them, Spartacus and Crixus included. Finally recovering from the shock, Agron scoffed and spit blood on the ground, close to Nasir’s feet. He pointed at Nasir and vowed, “This is not over.”

He walked back toward Spartacus and Crixus, who were looking particularly bemused, and offered him some water to wash the blood away. Naevia, who looked only concerned, jumped up and ran to Nasir’s side when he turned and walked, numbly, in the opposite direction.

“This is getting too strange,” Naevia whispered, and pulled on Nasir’s wrist to make him stop and look at her. “What is going on?”

For a moment Nasir wanted to tell her the truth. He respected Naevia too much, and was too out of sorts at that moment, to really want to lie to her. But it would be unfair to Agron if he told Naevia the truth. If he told one person that they were not really fighting, why shouldn’t he tell five or ten, or everyone? And then what would have been the point to putting Agron through everything simply because he loved Nasir, even though he thought Nasir was wrong? He had to lie.

“Nothing,” he said to Naevia. “I just... I just hate Agron.”

“You do not,” Naevia said, not falling for it. “If you are not yet used to him saying stupid things, you are a fool. And you are not a fool. Forgive him for whatever he said, and go apologize to him.”

Nasir sighed and looked at his hand. His knuckles were sore and red from punching Agron. He couldn’t remember ever hitting anyone before. Stabbing people to death, yes, but not hitting them. It hurt.

Naevia watching him grimace, and could hold it in no longer. She laughed. “I honestly cannot believe he let you hit him.”

“Well,” Nasir said, barely willing to keep up the pretense of lying, and hoping to get away from Naevia before she prodded anymore, “he deserved it.”

He turned away from her and stumbled toward the back bedrooms. Naevia laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m sure he did.”

Luckily his knees did not give out until he got to their bed, to Agron’s bed, now, and he collapsed on it. He was terrified. Not really of Agron’s retaliation, which Nasir knew could be real and brutal, even though he did not actually expect Agron to fight back. He was just certain he had hurt Agron, not physically, really, but emotionally. He felt horrible. He wanted to apologize but he was afraid to even look at Agron’s face, to see some kind of disappointment there. The plan had lasted less than one full day and had already spiraled out of control.

He waited for a long time after the meal, but Agron did not appear. Nasir found himself falling tired, but dared not to lay down on the bed, in case he slept there all night and Agron would not wake him. He leaned his back against the wall and brought his knees to his chin. The next thing he knew, a candle was being lit before him, bringing light to the entire room, which had gone dark without Nasir noticing. He opened his eyes and saw Agron. His bottom lip was red and swollen, but there was no longer blood on his chin. There was something in his eyes, but it was not exactly disappointment. Something more like confusion and worry, and Nasir thought it was probably worry for his own sanity.

Before he could come up with something good to say, (he had something perfect planned out before he fell asleep, and promptly forgot it entirely), he lunged at Agron and pulled him close. “I’m sorry, Agron,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Somewhat surprisingly, Agron held him back, and even ran his fingers through Nasir’s hair in a petting, forgiving way. “I would say you took a step in the right direction, if you were looking to frighten the others. But I wish you would have consulted with me first. I would have advised you to punch Crixus instead.”

Nasir didn’t know what to say, and tried to kiss Agron with apologies instead.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Agron complained, and held his hand to his mouth where Nasir had hit it.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Nasir said, and held his own mouth in sympathy, even though it did not hurt.

“You have one day left before I refuse to help you any longer,” Agron said, muffled behind his hand. “I hope by then you will learn not to care what other people think about you.”

Nasir had not expected Agron to agree to continue with his plan, and his heart lifted, the slightest bit, in hearing that the punch had not ended everything. Maybe hitting Agron would change the minds of the others. Maybe it would be as simple as that.

He left Agron’s room discreetly and chose a place to sleep in the common room among most of the others. A few stared, but no one spoke to him. He would have to wait until the morning to see in what way the night’s events had changed things.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning began with a change, but not the one Nasir had expected. It was a bad morning in every aspect; the bed in Agron’s room far surpassed the thin fabric on the floor most people slept on in the common room, and Nasir’s back ached as soon as he stumbled to his feet. Then Naevia came to him and asked if he had apologized to Agron yet, and he had to lie even more about how he sort of tried and then they fought even more. She tried to get him to admit what they were fighting about, and all he could come up with was, “I honestly do not know.”

And then came the announcement. Spartacus was going to take Crixus, Agron, and Gannicus with him to scout for a new place to settle, and to see how close, or far, Romans were to finding the camp. It would only take a couple of days, Spartacus assured everyone. Nasir looked at Agron from far away. He had a blank look on his face. Nasir did not believe all the four men meant to do was spy and scout. It did not take four men, the best men, to do so. They meant to do something else, probably dangerous, and Nasir could tell Agron was not going to tell him what it was. The scoff one of his eight new friends made during Spartacus’ announcement said Nasir was not the only one who didn’t believe they were being told the entire truth.

“I bet they are up to something more,” Nasir said offhand, wondering if any of these people might know more than he, and might divulge information.

Some of them ignored him, but a couple of them turned to stare at him, blankly. “Are you to fight Agron any time soon?” one asked.

Nasir frowned. This was going nowhere. He needed to talk to someone, to truly talk to someone. With Agron out of the question, he had only one person left.

He spied around the corner into Crixus and Naevia’s bedroom, and happily found Naevia there alone. He made a little knock, and she looked up at him and smiled. He took that to mean he could enter.

He crossed the room and fell flat on his face onto her bed. A comfortable bed, the kind found in private bedrooms, like the one he had no longer. “I’m a horrible person,” he mumbled into her blankets, but he doubted she understood him.

She petted his hair. “What troubles you, Nasir?”

“Everyone irritates me and everyone thinks I’m worthless and I’m pushing Agron away and my plan is failing,” he mumbled, but it sounded like an incoherent mess with his mouth against her bed.

“It cannot be as bad as all of that,” Naevia said, who probably deciphered nothing. “I am sure you and Agron will make amends and be perfectly happy in a few days. You’re having your first fight. It happens to the best of us.”

Nasir found he could breathe no longer, and turned his head to look at Naevia. “What if we do not?” he asked quietly, and found he was not lying.

“How could you think otherwise?” she asked. “I see the way you look at each other, and the way you behave together, even if you do not. You are not having a fling. That’s why I give no credit to this quarrel of yours.”

Nasir was quiet for a moment, soothed by her words and not exactly sure what to make of them. “Do you ever think about the future?” he asked her finally.

She smiled at him. “What do you mean, the future?”

“I mean the future. Are we all going to fight until we die? Or is it going to end some day?”

She shrugged. “Maybe it will. Maybe we will win.”

“Will Spartacus be known as Spartacus the Great? Crixus and Agron can be his praetors.”

Naevia laughed, but Nasir was serious. He was sad. It was never going to happen, but he couldn’t say it out loud.

“We’ll all live in a big house like this one, in Rome. All of us together,” Naevia said.

“Just us, me and you and Agron and Crixus and Spartacus. And Spartacus will find love again. But fuck the rest of them,” Nasir waved his hand, waved the thought of the rest away.

“We’ll have to clean the place ourselves, and prepare our own food. Can you imagine?”

“We won’t tell anyone if you want a couple of slaves to help you out.”

She leaned over and slapped him on the arm. “Oh, shut up.” But she laughed. “Why do you seem so hostile to the others?”

He shook his head. “I do not know if I belong here. I feel like an outsider. And...” he paused, “for some reason, I want some time of privacy and peace.” He sat up on his hands and knees and rolled off Naevia’s bed. “I must talk to Agron.”

“I do not know if this talk helped you or not, but you’re welcome,” Naevia called as he walked out the door.

Agron was at the furthest periphery of their new territory, emptying borrowed bowls of stale water and bones, tossing their contents into the trees beyond. There had been no rain for days, but the house had a great store of water and wine and the group might stay there a year and not go thirsty, not that they ever could stay that long.

Anyway, for various reasons, Agron had volunteered to clean. Mostly he did it so he would not constantly look for Nasir and wonder if he had yet changed his mind. (He had not seen Nasir for nearly an hour, since he went into the house after Spartacus’ announcement, but he was not thinking about it.) And he had put a little thought into Nasir’s theory, that the group relied on rank and respect and had a hierarchy. He never really thought about it before, but he also had to admit to himself he had not volunteered to clean anything in so long a time he couldn’t remember when he had done it last. And then he wondered who else had been cleaning up after him without him really noticing, and then he hated himself, so, there he was.

He looked out into the woods. Somewhere beyond, somewhere relatively close, was the sea. As he stood there he thought he could almost hear the waves crashing. He wished he could get into the water. He would clean the bowls, his clothes, himself, and Nasir, too. But it would not be wise to stray that far from the house.

He was lost in thought when someone rushed at him from behind and put their hands over his eyes. He had the good instinct not to turn and break their neck, which was lucky, because it was Nasir.

“How is your lip?” Nasir whispered into his ear.

Instinctively Agron touched his tongue to the tender spot on his lip. “Better,” he said. “Hardly hurts. But I would have you be gentle if you mean to do anything with it.”

Nasir laughed and slid around to stand face to face with Agron. “As you wish,” he said, and kissed him softly.

Before things went very far, Nasir pulled away. “Agron,” he said quietly, “would you go away with me?”

Agron grinned. “Were you reading my thoughts?”

Nasir was surprised. “Why? Were you thinking about going away?”

“To the sea,” Agron nodded. “For a swim, and a good wash. Definitely would take you with me.”

“But... what if we really went away?”

Agron looked at him, and blinked. For a moment he said nothing, while what Nasir was truly asking set in. “What if we really went away,” he repeated, flatly.

“I do not mean we should,” Nasir clarified. “I just wanted to ask you what you think would happen... if we did.”

Agron exhaled, a kind of unamused laugh. “I think we would be killed or put into slavery before two days passed. What else could possibly happen?”

“Well,” Nasir said carefully, “we would not go to Rome. We would go to a small village, far away. We would tell them... we came from another village, and it was raided, and we were the only survivors, and we need shelter and work. We could get away with it.”

“And you fell very tan on the way,” Agron added, trying not to stare at Nasir like he was absolutely insane.

“Or,” Nasir went on, ignoring him. “We could go into the forest and stay there forever. We know how to hunt and build a fire and... we would be fine.”

“That sounds very...” Agron did not know which word to choose. “Barbaric.”

“But we would not die,” Nasir said, fast and loud.

Agron sighed, finally seeing what Nasir was trying to get at. “Yes, Nasir, we would die. We are not immortal.”

“But not as quickly,” Nasir argued. “Not tomorrow, not ten days from now. Not violently. We might grow old.”

“Nasir,” Agron said sadly. He could not give him what he asked for. It was impossible. “If you went anywhere at all, I would be at your side.”

Nasir shook his head. “But I could not ask you to. You are here to avenge your brother. I could not ask you to give up.”

Agron nodded. “But, Nasir,” he said again, “if you went anywhere at all, I would be at your side. I would.”

Nasir wrapped his arms around Agron and pulled him close and knew then that he would not go, and he would not mind, because it would be for Agron’s sake.

That evening they sat near, but not too near, one another and halfheartedly called each other names. Agron said because he was leaving for a few days, it would not matter if they kept up the pretense of hating each other while he was gone, as long as Nasir promised to stop it once he got back, which Nasir did promise.

And at night Nasir slept apart from Agron, but he moved his bed on the floor so he could see Agron’s room in the distance, and knew when he put out his light. And Nasir stayed there on the floor, but he did not sleep all night for guilt.

In the morning everyone patted Spartacus and Gannicus and Crixus and Agron on their backs, and wished them a fair journey. Agron and Nasir could not do much in the way of goodbyes, but Agron stooped to Nasir’s ear and whispered, “Do not worry,” because he knew Nasir was.

And before he had time to accept it, they were gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Three days passed, and those left behind neither saw nor heard anything of the four men who had gone, supposedly for only two days. Some of the group were on edge from their absence, others seemed to care less. Many were sure the men would return by the third evening, and somehow everyone decided that night was the perfect night to finally open the taken house’s stash of wine and truly make use of it for the first time since they had arrived. Basically, they were going to throw a party under the pretense of welcoming back Spartacus, Gannicus, Crixus and Agron. Many of them, to some degree, were still mourning the passing of Mira, Oenomaus, and several other friends who had fallen in the last battle with the Romans. A party might bring some a release from sadness, but Nasir thought it was a flimsy pretense.

Nasir and Naevia took to sitting near each other and trying not to be miserable. Naevia was better at it than Nasir. She was strong, or at least appeared so. She had experience. She had faced far worse than a few days apart from Crixus. For a very long time she truly believed she would never see him again. But Agron and Nasir had only been apart for a day or two before. And never had they parted before on such uncomfortable terms.

Nasir could not help but sometimes feel their pretend fighting held a miniscule amount of reality in it. He was not angry with Agron, he told himself again, he was not. He was simply insecure. He and Agron had had a million little whispered conversations in the middle of the night about their respective pasts, about the small twists of fate that had led them to finally meeting each other in such a tiny and remote place. But they had never experienced the privacy that Nasir craved. He knew wanted too much. Only the very wealthy had the luxury of sitting around all day with a lover, of doing simply nothing but learning about one another. He could only dream about going to bed late, making love all night, sleeping in until the afternoon, all wrapped up in Agron. He could not imagine such a life. He could not imagine not waking up surrounded by dozens of other people, many of them who looked down on him, or stared at him, or pretended he was not there.

He tried, for the last time, to communicate this to Naevia as the party planning began to get underway. Naevia was more opposed to the party, and the opening of the wine, than Nasir was, and she was not in the mood for Nasir’s whining.

“Nasir,” she snapped at him when he was in the middle of a long statement of inequality, “you can hate them all you want, but you have no idea how many of them have probably saved your life. Imagine all the enemies you did not see coming from behind, who were struck down by one of these men before they could reach you. Maybe not everyone loves you for your stunning personality, but we are all family and would do anything for each other, and you should be grateful.” Then she stormed away, and Nasir did not see her again for the rest of the night.

The sun began to set on the third day since the four men left, and there was nothing left for Nasir to do but get drunk.

By dark, the noise emanating from their camp had exponentially increased, and they had flaming torches surrounding the house. If anyone was in their right senses, they might have thought it was a dangerous move. But no one was really in their right senses. The bloodlust boredom had come to a head and friendly physical fights had broken out. People screamed and cheered on their friends to victory. Nasir tried to stay away from everything, and to just observe, and to drink, but every hour that passed made him more nervous. He refused to wonder what he would do if Agron had died. If the thought made the slightest move toward the forefront of his mind he would drink more, until at some point, his head was pounding and the walls swam around him.

A dark haired girl began talking to him at some point. He did not really know who she was, except that she, like the man who had come after him with a dagger nights earlier, was new. Nasir couldn’t really hear, or comprehend, what she said to him, and decided to periodically nod his head while she went on and on. She told him her name, but he didn’t quite catch it, and he told her his name was Nasir.

She nodded, and repeated, “Nasir,” and kissed him.

It was a long kiss, with obvious intentions of going farther, and Nasir’s advanced state of drunkenness made him slow to pull away.

“Apologies,” he told her, not very sincerely, “I... my...” he closed his eyes and tried to remember how to compose a sentence. “My lips belong to someone else.”

She was not swayed. In fact, she laughed, and started talking again and had no apparent intentions to stop soon. While he again pretended to listen, Nasir fell into a deep reverie of guilt. If he was sober he might have considered how Agron would take Nasir kissing a girl, which would most likely be in easy stride. Agron would have laughed. He would have said it was gross. But suddenly, in Nasir’s head, he imagined Agron, somewhere in the forest, mortally wounded, and through some divine hallucination, saw Nasir take too long to pull away from the girl, and believed in his heart Nasir did not love him -- his last thought before he passed into the world of the dead.

The party instantaneously turned into the worst night of Nasir’s life. He saw now why Naevia had locked herself in her room and refused to come out. “I have to go,” Nasir told the girl, interrupting her. “I must find Naevia.”

“Do not go!” the girl pleaded, and clung to his arm. “At least not yet. I want to show you something.” She began to pull him around the side of the house.

“No,” Nasir said weakly, allowing her to pull him because he could not find enough strength to not follow along. “I cannot.”

He caught the smell of smoke first, and when his mind registered that the torches had been put out on this side of the house, and she was pulling him into darkness.

The girl began to speak in another language, and Nasir realized too late that she was speaking to someone else. His gaze moved to the man who had come after him with a dagger so few nights before, and then he was struck hard on the head, and then he saw nothing but blackness.


	4. Chapter 4

After what felt like years, and also like no time at all, he still saw nothing but black, and he could not move his body, but he heard the waves. Waves from the ocean were crashing against the shore, somewhere close, but he could not see them, and he could not move.

A wave lapped against the shore, slowly and peacefully, and then pulled back. A moment later came the sound again. Nasir listened to them for a very long time. He could not remember or comprehend anything else, and after a while, the sound began to fade away, and turned into silence.

“Dominus,” said a faraway voice. It sounded like it came from someone under water. “Fetch the medicus,” it said, and then repeated again, “Dominus.”

Nasir opened his eyes. Everything was a blur, so he lied very still until things began to come into focus, minutes later. He heard a shuffle of feet somewhere near him, and more voices, but he did not listen.

A woman with pale yellow hair leaned over him. He realized he was on his back in a very comfortable bed. “Dominus,” she said. “You wake.”

Very slowly, because his whole body swayed as though he were very drunk, he pushed himself up to sitting. Still the woman stared at him. He turned his head to see who she was actually talking to, but there was no one else there. He looked back at her and put a hand to his chest, asking without speaking, do you mean me?

She smiled with relief. “You fell ill last night.” She lowered her gaze to the floor, apparently out of respect. “Apologies, Dominus, but the party has begun without you. Your family insisted. They must have known you would wake before the night had passed.”

Some small part of his mind repaired itself then, and he suddenly remembered her. This woman was the Roman woman he and Agron had badly guarded one night. The memory was hazy, and he could not remember the context, or what happened before or after it. He could not remember her name.

“What is your name?” he asked, but it came out mostly breath. His throat was sore and dry.

She smiled at him like he asked a stupid question, but she remained polite and shy. “Illithyia, Dominus.”

He did not remember it from before, but he did not care enough to ask her any more questions about herself. “My family?” he asked, remembering she had used the phrase.

“Yes, they are all dressed up and enjoying the festivities without you. Please, let me find one of your slaves to help you dress for dinner. I was only meant to watch over you as you slept.” Her eyes moved up to his for a moment, and then back down again. “You would not wake for some time.”

“My family?” he repeated. She just stared at him. He looked down at himself, at his own torso and legs, and saw that he wore only a small and dirty piece of cloth, but hardly cared. He had to get out of this room, away from the positively insane woman, and find out what was really going on.

He had hardly noticed that she was dressed richly, or that the room was lavish and dripping with golden adornments. He rushed to the door and stepped into a hallway. He had taken only three steps before an arm draped across his shoulders and pulled him back into the room. “I think not, little man,” said the man as he pulled closed the curtains behind them.

Nasir looked up at him. “Agron!” But he hardly looked like Agron; it was Agron’s face and Agron’s body but he was dressed in something outlandish, something he had only seen his own former Dominus wear.

“As much as I might love it, you cannot greet the public half naked,” Agron said, and flung back the doors of a wardrobe that boasted dozens of colorful costumes he apparently meant to dress Nasir in.

He chose something green and tossed it to Nasir. He caught it but dropped it to the floor immediately. Dressing was not a concern. "Agron," he said, "what is this?"

"It is a party, Nasir," Agron replied, frowning suspiciously at Illithyia, whom Nasir was only vaguely aware was still standing there. He looked at her, and caught her staring at him. She started, and her gaze fell to the floor again. Agron snapped at her. "Leave us."

When she had rushed out, past the curtain, Agron said, "She's completely in love with you. I am sure she plans schemes to get you to marry her and free her, or fuck knows what else."

Every word that left Agron's mouth confused Nasir further. "You... you should not be rude to her, Agron."

Agron's face hardened. "I see her affections are returned."

"What?" Nasir asked. "No! I do not know her!"

Agron was upset. He waved at the green cloth at Nasir's feet. "Get dressed. Your mother said if you do not eat at least half the food yourself it would go bad before sunrise, and your brother and I are convincing Batiatus to let some of his gladiators fight in the courtyard. Do not," Agron said sternly, pointing at him, "tell your mother about it."

He was halfway out the door when Nasir rushed toward him and grabbed him by the right arm. "Wait!" He held Agron's arm out, and stared at it.

Agron gave him a look. "What?"

Nasir swallowed, and let go of Agron's arm. It did not bear the mark of Batiatus, as he had always known it to before. "Nothing."

Agron scoffed and disappeared down the hall.

Nasir turned back into the room, feeling faint. He saw the green cloth and put it on, hoping if he came across anyone else, they might explain what was happening. He did not, would not believe his mother and brother were somewhere in the house, but maybe someone who knew something was.

He had never worn such complicated clothes, so getting into them was more difficult than he expected, but minutes later he entered the hallway and was looking over a massive room with dozens, if not more than one hundred, people dressed in fine clothes and jewels, sipping wine, and laughing.

He was speechless, and could not move. Was this really his house? Were his mother and brother really in that crowd somewhere? Did Agron live with him? Did he have slaves? He tried to remember this life, but could not. He would not keep slaves. He remembered someone, somewhere, who told him if he ever knew this kind of life they would not keep slaves. He saw the woman, Illithyia, staring up at him from across the room. He could not stand for her to call him Dominus. He could not own someone.

Agron moved across the room, laughing with someone he did not know, and caught Nasir's attention. Nasir waved at him, and motioned for him to come over. He could not make himself join the crowd.

"What's wrong?" Agron asked him when he neared.

Nasir shook his head. "I do not feel well. I think I am ill."

"Should I call for the medicus?" he asked.

"No," Nasir said. "Just stay near me."

Agron smiled and wrapped his arm around Nasir's waist. "I am always here for you."

Nasir tried to smile, but it was a sad smile. He put his hand over Agron's where it sat on his hip. He looked back into the crowd. "Where is my mother?" he asked very quietly.

Agron's eyes scanned the crowd, and then he pointed. "There."

She was small in stature, with dark hair and dark skin and dark eyes. She was dressed beautifully. Suddenly he remembered her, but felt as though, and was sure, he had not seen her since he was a small boy. And when he remembered her he remembered being devastatingly poor, with no fine clothes, and no food whatsoever, and a small shelter that let the rain in on his bed when he tried to sleep. Yet there she stood, with jewels in her ears and around her neck, and her hair in pretty curls. She had a wine glass in her hand.

"And there is your brother," Agron pointed somewhere near his mother, at a young man, only slightly older than he. They looked almost exactly alike, and Nasir remembered him, too.

"Let's go talk to them. They will be happy to see you have risen from your bed," Agron said.

Nasir shook his head. "I cannot." He heard a wave again, which made no sense because he inside a big and beautiful house, and not close enough to the sea to hear a thing. But he heard it, and then another. "I want to go to the sea."

"It would be very offensive of us if we left the party in the middle of it and went for a swim," Agron replied, and smiled. "So let us go quickly."

Agron led Nasir through the house, avoiding crowds to the relief of Nasir. They passed only two or three people, who paid him no attention at all, as though he and Agron had snuck around the house, hand in hand, for years.

He felt better when his feet touched the sand. He had a peculiar sensation that his whole body lay in sand, even when he was standing upright. The house sat behind them, beautifully illuminated and elevated on a hill, not far from the coast.

Agron stripped down to nothing and stepped into the water without hesitation. Nasir could not stop from catching glimpses of his arm, free of the mark he felt it should have, and always had.

The water came up to Agron's chest. He turned and called Nasir to join him. Nasir pulled off the unfamiliar clothes slowly. When the water lapped at his toes he could hear little else but the waves. They were uncommonly loud, as though he was hearing them twice at once.

He waded out to Agron and Agron kissed him. He could remember that. He remembered Agron's lips and Agron's tongue, and his body and that he loved him, but he remembered a mark that was not there. He remembered that Agron used to be a gladiator, but it did not seem that Agron himself remembered it.

The sound of waves roared in his ears. He wrapped his legs around Agron's waist and let him do whatever he wanted. He closed his eyes. He was too preoccupied. He thought about his family. He should have talked to them -- he knew that now. He knew now, with every wave, that this was going to end soon, and he would not see them ever again.

"Nasir," Agron said into his ear, and pushed against him. He sounded under water, like Illithyia had when he was waking up. But when had he gone to sleep?

"Agron," Nasir said back, and opened his eyes, but Agron was gone. He was floating in the ocean alone. The waves pulled him farther from the shore, and when he looked back, he saw the house was gone, too.

He struggled back toward the sand and finally he toes touched the bottom again. He willed himself back to the sand, even though he felt exhausted, and every muscle ached. When he felt he was safe from drowning, he collapsed on the ground, and fell asleep, soothed by the waves that lapped at his back.

When he awoke again the sun had risen, and he was still on the beach. He could still hear the waves. Sand stuck into his skin hard, like he had lay there too long. All he could see was green. The sea was still at his back, and there was nothing but trees before him. But he remembered the trees. They were the trees outside the building Spartacus' army had taken over near Mt. Vesuvius. He remembered Agron, the real Agron with the great B branded into his arm. He remembered Spartacus and the cause they fought for. He remembered Naevia. He remembered the party, and he remembered the girl and the Gaul pulling him into the darkness to knock him out and take him away. But why had they taken him? And where were they now?

He tried to sit up, but he only managed to barely lift his head before he felt pain shoot through his whole body, from his head to his feet. He groaned in pain and tried again. He would not just lie there, helpless, forever.

Finally he sat up, and blinked hard until his eyes focused. He looked down at himself and saw he was covered bruises and superficial wounds. His arm might have been broken. His lip felt split. That was the cause of the pain.

After a moment of preparation, he pulled himself to his feet, and leaned against a tree for support. He looked around, and found he was alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Spartacus, Crixus and Naevia had separated themselves in a corner of the house. Agron was the last to join them, and he slumped into his seat. He was pale. Spartacus asked if he was feeling well enough to be out of bed, but Agron frowned and waved him off. “I’m fine.”

The rebels were experiencing a bittersweet week -- celebrating the return of Agron, Spartacus, Crixus, and Gannicus; and mourning the fact that five of their own had disappeared the night of the party. There were no witnesses, and no one who remained had any clues to give the four returning men who found the group in a general state of panic.

Maybe Agron was not fine. He had been sick for days. His skin burned and he could hardly walk without swaying. Besides, he came back to find Nasir was gone. And worse, now he had to sit there and watch Naevia sit close to Crixus, Naevia put her arm in the crook of his, and watch as she pretended to be concerned that Nasir was gone. Agron did not believe she was concerned. Agron believed she should have been with him that whole night, and should have protected him when he needed it. She pretended to be his friend, but why hadn’t she been there for him when he needed her?

In actuality, he was angry with himself. He should have been the one to protect Nasir. He was the one who promised he would. And he had left him behind, when he had known that bastard Gaul was after him, though he had no idea why. It was all his own fault, but he was too ill to blame himself just then. If he did, he would probably die, so instead he focused all his internal rage on Naevia. It seemed the easiest thing to do.

“What have we learned from the others? What are the rumours?” Spartacus asked.

“No one knows anything,” Crixus said. “I have not heard a whisper of information. It seems no one saw a thing, only that at some point in the night the absence of the five became obvious and they could not be found in the house, nor returned from beyond the gates when called.”

Agron shook his head through most of Crixus’ speech. “It is not possible.”

“All we can do now is try to understand why they are gone,” Crixus said, ignoring Agron. “Or why they left.”

“They did not leave!” Agron yelled at him. “Nasir would not have left of his own free will.”

“I do not believe he would have left, either,” Naevia said.

Even when she was on his side, Agron still glared at her. He did not like that she pretended to know Nasir as well as Agron did, and he hated that Crixus would take her word above Agron’s when the topic was knowing Nasir. He did not need to be supported. He was simply right.

“We cannot just assume they were abducted,” Crixus argued.

“One of the missing men tried to kill Nasir not seven days before,” Agron reminded him. “Why would he not try to do it again?”

“Why would he not kill him in front of everyone else?” Crixus asked. “Why would he not kill him here, and throw the body in the woods, and return here as though nothing happened?”

If Agron had been fully healthy he would have had Crixus’ head for referring to Nasir, who might be dead, as “the body,” but he balled his hands into fists and reminded himself that fighting Crixus would only weaken them both, and he needed to stay focused to try to help find Nasir.

“They were fucking spies,” Agron said, low and angry, staring at Crixus. “They were bribed by the Romans to bring back some of our men. They will torture them until they tell them where we are, and how many we have in our ranks, and how well equipped we are. I know that’s what’s happened.”

“That may be,” Crixus replied. “But how do we know Nasir is the victim? He could have led the whole thing. He could have been bribed instead. How do you know?”

“Why would you trust men you’ve known for a week over Nasir?” Agron yelled at him, and looked at Spartacus for help. He must not be the only one who saw Crixus was being impossibly stupid. “You trust them because they’re fucking Gauls, and you don’t trust Nasir because you fucking hate me. We all get it, Crixus, but you’re fucking with people’s lives now while you sit here and waste time questioning it. We could be looking for them.”

“You cannot go looking for them,” Spartacus said quietly, trying to be gentle with Agron. “You are too ill. You should not leave the house.”

“If your wild theory is correct,” Crixus fought back, “and Nasir is now being tortured or on his way to being tortured to give up information about us, why are you forcing us to stay here?” He looked at Spartacus, too, who had become the beacon of logic, even though he was allowing Crixus and Agron to argue it out themselves. “We should leave as soon as possible. If he’s too ill, someone can drag him.”

“We will not leave until we know he will not come back,” Agron spat. “If we leave now and they come back an hour later, how would you feel?”

“Perfectly happy because I would never know,” Crixus said. “All I would know is that I lived to see another day, and I did not sit here and wait to be killed by my enemy. The point is, if men who know too much are missing and unaccounted for, we need to move. We must move.”

“We are not moving,” Agron said. “I will not leave. If you leave it will be without me.”

Spartacus rubbed at an ache in his head. “We will stay another day. Agron and Nasir have proved invaluable to us, we will not --”

He was cut off when Crixus could not hold back a scoffing chuckle, and Agron lunged at him from across the table. He had barely touched him when Spartacus easily pulled Agron away and pushed him toward his bedroom.

“We will not leave without them if it can be helped,” Spartacus concluded. “And we will discuss it again tomorrow.”

Spartacus helped Agron into bed and told him not to leave it again until morning. As he was about to leave, Agron called him back.

“I must admit something,” Agron told him, feeling more at ease now that they were alone. "It is true Nasir once spoke to me about leaving this place on his own."

Spartacus was surprised. "He would leave you behind?"

"Well," Agron was not sure. His head pounded. He could feel the fever raging in him, and when he tried to remember Nasir now he wondered if any of it had ever been real. "No... no. He would not. I only tell you this because we must find him. You must know everything. I don't believe Nasir left on his own." Agron shook his head. "He would not leave without telling me. And even if he did, which he did not, he would not go with the intention of betraying us. He only wishes for a more peaceful life. He is afraid to die."

"I believe he was taken as much as you do," Spartacus said. "He would not have gone with men he did not know. He would only leave with you, or with your blessing. They took those they believed were the weakest, the easiest to overpower. But they do not know Nasir. They were wrong about him."

"Please, send someone to look for him," Agron begged. "If you do not, I will do it myself, but I don’t think I would get very far.”

Spartacus gave him a clap on the arm, which made Agron slump further into bed. He was too weak to sit up. “I will get a group together to search beyond the gates. And I will send you food and water.” He stood. “You must rest. It will not do to have you dead when Nasir returns.”


	6. Chapter 6

Nasir had settled into one particular spot -- the same spot he had woken up in. He wanted to leave, to move on, to find someone or something recognizable beyond the forest and the sea, but he had no concept of where he was or in which direction he should move. Instead, he had stayed in one spot while he collected himself, gathered his bearings, and tried to heal. He was in pain that lapsed back and forth between numbing and unbearable. Agron was always on his mind.

He thought about how he had tried to distance himself from Agron, publicly at least, and how it had resulted in nothing but actually push them apart. His intention was to prove himself as strong and a leader, but now he was more pathetic than ever. He had put himself at a disadvantage; it was his own fault, and he had allowed himself to be overpowered, and then abandoned. Apparently, he wasn’t even good enough to be a hostage.

He wanted to go back, especially to see Agron again. If Agron still lived. Besides the basic fact he had no idea which direction to try, something more important kept him from immediately rushing back to Spartacus and his army. If he could be so easily tricked into what was, in hindsight, so obviously an attempt at sabotage against Spartacus, he never deserved to be there in the first place. He knew from the beginning he never should have gotten drunk. He knew that man was after him. And he should have known the woman would have never really wanted him. She only wanted to seduce him into a dark corner, and he himself had made it absurdly easy for her to accomplish it. Spartacus did not need someone like him on his team. He hadn’t proven himself a strong leader, he had proven himself a liability to the cause.

With this in mind, he had collapsed into one spot and stayed there for two days. He had no desire to get up, to find shelter, to find food, or water, or to move. He had entirely too much time to think. But eventually he realized he had to do something. The will to survive was stronger than the weight of his failure. Well, he thought, if he could never face Agron or Spartacus or Naevia again, he would have to do something else with his life. He would have to do what he had always planned, somewhere in the back of his mind, to find a small village and adopt it as his own, and stay there for the rest of his life. He would make the villagers like him, somehow, and he would make them incorporate him into their lives. He would find a way to make a living. He would build his own house, and hunt his own food. He would never cause trouble, or be a bother to anyone, and he could live that way, quietly, forever.

At the beginning of the third day, as the sun rose and Nasir couldn’t tear his mind from thinking of drinking water, rain drops began to fall. He couldn’t remember the last time it had rained, but it always seemed to happen at exactly the last possible moment before the lack of water became perilous, and this time was no different. The sea waves had been torturing him until then. He leaned his head back and held his mouth open, trying to catch as much as he could. After a while the rain fell so hard he could catch pools of water in his hands, and drank from them. He was inspired, then, to start walking.

He could not walk into the sea, which left him three directions that he could pursue. With his back to the waves, to the west, he could go south along the coast, east into the forest, or forge straight ahead, to the north. He had an inclination to go north. He told himself that probably meant Agron was to the north, so he went east instead. He felt walking along the shore would leave him too exposed.

He went perhaps a mile into the forest, east, before he stopped. The rain still fell, only now it was pouring hard and pounding into the ground. He journeyed in mud, his feet sticking with every step, and knew he would fall ill if it kept up for long. His head ached. He paused, just for a moment, and rested his forehead against the bark of a tree. He closed his eyes. He remembered the stories Agron had told him of Spartacus in his early days as a gladiator, and how the throngs of crowds at the arena idolized him for bringing the rain. The bringer of rain, they called him.

And when he thought of himself in some little village, trying to hide from his neighbours and hoping no one would ever find out anything about him, he wondered what would keep him of thinking of Agron and Spartacus then. What would his mind turn to every single time it rained? He would hate himself if he left them. He would never be happy again. It would be worse to desert them than anything else he could possibly do. And he would have fought for nothing. He was afraid to see Agron again when it was possible that Agron would never forgive him. But he would never forgive himself if he knew Agron might still be alive, and he never went back for him. Above all else, he could not really bring himself to leave Agron behind.

This thought process flashed through his mind in a fleeting moment, and before he really knew what he was doing, he had turned to the north. It was stupid. He didn’t really know if he was going in the right direction or not. He had no way of knowing. He could only follow his instinct.

It took another two days before he gave up, and sank to the ground once more in defeat. But, of course, when he lifted his head, and gazed toward the horizon, he spotted it. It was the very same house Spartacus’ army had claimed as their own. It was exactly the place he had been looking for. He laughed when he saw it.

The guards at the gates did not recognize Nasir until he told them who he was, and then it took them a moment to snap out of shock before one of them thought to tell Crixus.

Crixus appeared moments later, looking incredulous, but when he finally laid eyes on Nasir, he, too, laughed.

“Why do you laugh?” Nasir asked him.

“We should not be here anymore,” Crixus told him. “If I had my way, you would have returned to an empty house. I was not going to wait one more day for you.”

It was too much for Nasir to think about, so he said nothing.

“Follow me,” Crixus ordered.

Nasir lagged behind as Crixus led him to a room in the back of the house, where Spartacus sat alone. Along the way he searched for a glimpse of Agron. Even the back of his head would do to appease him. But he did not see him anywhere.

Crixus and Nasir sat with Spartacus. Nasir had the distinct feeling he was going to be reprimanded.

“We think we know what happened,” Spartacus began, “but I would like to hear it from you.”

Nasir shook his head. “I woke up. I was alone, and beaten. It was the Gaul who came after me that night. I think he hit me in the head. And the dark haired girl worked with him. She led me to him.”

“And you don’t know where they are now?” Spartacus asked.

“No.”

“And you don’t know why they left you?”

“No.”

Crixus looked him up and down. “They probably thought you were dead.”

Nasir tried to smile at him. “Do I look that bad?”

Crixus was not amused. “Did anyone follow you here?”

“No.”

“How did you find your way back?”

“I don’t know.”

Crixus looked at Spartacus. “He is lying.”

Before Spartacus could reply, Nasir tried to answer the question again. “I was pulled in the right direction.”

Crixus gave him a mocking smile. “By the gods, do you think?”

Nasir was solemn. “Maybe. Haven’t you ever been separated from someone you love, and felt overwhelmingly compelled to find them again?”

That shut Crixus up, and Spartacus took the hint. “Agron is ill. He’s been overcome with fever since we left to find a new location to set up camp. And when we returned to find you gone... I don’t think it helped him to recover any faster.”

Crixus stood. “I will bring him to Agron’s room,” he volunteered.

Both Nasir and Spartacus gave him a questioning look, but Nasir didn’t care enough to try to decipher his intentions. It appeared Spartacus could not decipher them either, because he nodded, but still he frowned.

Nasir followed Crixus wordlessly down the halls. When they reached Agron’s bedroom, the room they had once shared, Crixus stopped and took hold of Nasir’s shoulder. “If you simply walk in, you will kill him. He is very weak. Let me ease him into the matter gently.”

Nasir wanted to run in immediately, but he worried about Agron, so he nodded.

“Stay out here until I signal to you,” Crixus said, and entered the room alone.

Nasir peeked around the corner to look at Agron as Crixus took a seat at the end of his bed. Agron was pale and sweating and seemed to be half asleep and half awake at the same time.

“We have heard news of Nasir,” Crixus told Agron quietly. Agron sat up straighter, anxious to hear. “It seems some of the men I brought into our ranks have betrayed us. They took Nasir for ransom. If not just for money, for information, also.”

Agron stared at him, silent.

“I am sorry,” Crixus said. Nasir was shocked. He had never heard Crixus apologize to anyone, or be so emotionally honest. He hardly knew he was capable of it.

“Has Nasir been found?” Agron asked, choosing his words carefully, not wanting to ask, but wanting to know, if Nasir was alive or not.

When Crixus hesitated to answer, Nasir realized what Crixus was doing. He remembered when Agron told Crixus that Naevia was dead; a horrible lie that had practically killed Crixus to hear it. But Crixus was strong then, and Agron was weak with fever. Crixus was going to tell Agron that Nasir had died, and it probably really would kill Agron to hear it. It was Crixus’ revenge.

Nasir was panicked, and couldn’t decide if rushing in to stop Crixus from saying it would help anything or not. Either way, Crixus was not gently easing Agron into anything. He was about to shout at Crixus from the hallway, hoping the sound of his voice would shock Agron less than jumping into the room would, when Agron spoke again. Crixus was taking too long to answer him, and Agron was getting frantic.

“How do you know all of this?” he asked Crixus.

Crixus stared at the floor, as though contemplating something, before he finally answered. “We have heard it from a messenger.”

“Who? I must speak to him,” Agron demanded. “Send him in here.”

Crixus nodded, and wordlessly left the room. He looked at Nasir, and Nasir could see Crixus had been thinking exactly as Nasir had been. He knew Crixus had almost told Agron that Nasir was dead, out of revenge, but had changed his mind at the last minute. Nasir wanted to thank him, or express gratitude somehow, but before he could do anything, Crixus pushed him into Agron’s room, and then he disappeared into some other part of the house.

Nasir was in shock. He was too frightened that Agron would die, or break into a million pieces, if he took one step further, so he stayed in one spot, frozen to the floor. Somewhere inside he knew his fears were ridiculous, because Agron was the strongest person he had ever known, and he could withstand a little fever and a little shock, but still he could not move.

Agron stared at him, with his mouth open in shock.

“I’m sorry,” Nasir finally said in a rush. “I should have never done... what I did.”

Agron continued to stare, and still said nothing.

“I only want to be with you,” Nasir admitted, secondarily. “I don’t care about what other people think, or about other places I might live, or about other lives I could have... I just want to be with you.”

Agron closed his mouth before he spoke. “You didn’t run away?” he asked.

Nasir shook his head. “Why would I go without you?”

Agron smiled at him. “Come here, Nasir. I want to make sure you’re really here.”

Nasir relaxed, realizing only then all of his muscles were tensed. He crossed the room and climbed into the bed, into Agron’s lap. Agron pulled a blanket over his shoulders even though Nasir was covered in dirt and Agron had laid there for days. They kissed, and Nasir apologized again against Agron’s lips.

“If you want to go, I will go with you,” Agron assured him for the second time. “I would go anywhere and do anything for you.”

“No,” Nasir told him. “I want to be here. I want to fight with Spartacus, and at your side. That is the most important thing, not admiration and respect. We are doing what is right.”

After that, Nasir convinced Agron to sleep and try to recover. He promised to talk to Crixus in the morning and tell him not to force them all to move on while Agron was too ill to walk. “And if I cannot convince him,” Nasir said, “I will just have to carry you.”

Agron was too tired to laugh at the thought, but he smiled before he fell asleep.


End file.
